Travice raised his thin hand, and laid it for a moment over his face, over his closed eyes. Was he praying for help in his pain?--for strength to go through what must be gone through--his duty in the future; and to do it bravely? "Travice, my dear, but for this illness she would now have been your wife. It is only natural that she should wish to come and see you." "Yes, of course," he said, removing his hand, and speaking very calmly; "I have been expecting that she would." "When shall she come up? Now?" He did not speak for a moment. "Not now; not to-day; the getting up seemed to tire me more than it has done yet. Tell her so from me. Perhaps she will take the trouble to call again to-morrow, and come up then." The message was carried to Miss Fauntleroy, and she did not fail in the appointment. Mrs. Arkell took her upstairs without notice to her son; possibly she feared some excuse again. The sofa was drawn near the fire as before, and Travice lay on it; had he been apprised of the visit, he might have tried to sit up to receive her. She was very big as usual, and very grand. A rich watered lilac silk dress, looped up above a scarlet petticoat; a velvet something on her arms and shoulders, of which I really don't know the name, covered with glittering jet trimmings; and a spangled bonnet with fancy feathers. As she sailed into the room, her petticoats, that might have covered the dome of St. Paul's, knocked over a little brass stand and kettle, some careless attendant having left them on the carpet, near the wall. There was no damage, except noise, for the kettle was empty. "That's my crinoline!" cried the hearty, good-humoured girl. "Never mind; there's worse misfortunes at sea." "No, Travice, you had better not rise," interposed Mrs. Arkell, for he was struggling into a sitting position. "Barbara will excuse it; she knows how weak you are." "And I'll not allow you to rise, that's more," said Barbara, laying her hand upon him. "I am not come to make you worse, but to make you better--if I can." Mrs. Arkell, not altogether easy yet upon the feelings of Travice as to the visit, anxious, as we all are with anything on our consciences, to get away, invited Barbara to a chair, and hastened from the room. Travice tried to receive her as he ought, and put out his hand with a wan smile. "How are you, Barbara?" There was no reply, except that the thin hand was taken between both of hers. He looked up, and saw that her eyes were swimming in tears. A moment's struggle, and they came forth, with a burst. "There! it's of no good. What a fool I am!" Just a minute or two's indulgence to the burst, and it was over. Miss Fauntleroy rubbed away the traces, and her broad face wore its smiles again. She drew a chair close, and sat down in front of him. "I was not prepared to see you look like this, Travice. How dreadfully it has pulled you down!"